Dedicated to ElysiumPhoenix, Rinso, RAGAnne, and Taste Like Special.

Chapter 11

The lover Wiccas came by Revello Drive the next day. Spike, being sun-allergic and all, was the one to let them in. Everyone was off acting like things were normal. Even Dawn was at school, where Glory could just barge in at any time and snatch her if the idiot ever figured out what and who the sodding key was.

"You've been quiet," Tara said when she re-entered from the dining room. Her other half was taking care of the second floor. Spike sat on the steps, his hand clenched around the little velvet box. The witch held some incense by the door, then smeared something on the top of the door's frame. "Is everything alright? I mean, I know Buffy's freaking."

"Bloody right she is." Spike leaned back against the step. "So should all of us, pet."

"I think we're already on that. Willow's been up all night on her computer, looking into spells until she passed out." Tara muttered some Latin at the walls. Of course, if a hell god wanted in, it was likely she'd just huff and puff and blow the entire place down. "You're not nervous about, um..." She waved her incense stick toward the box cradled between Spike's hands. "I thought Dawnie was helping."

"Right, yeah, no. Bit's been helpin' me scheme. Just want to get the timing right. Right as I can get it around a hellmouth. Get some more news on Joyce, first, so she doesn't feel as overwhelmed." Some part of Spike would always flinch. He couldn't help remembering the night Cecily destroyed him with her rejection, the night he'd begged Dru for her gift. He knew Buffy wouldn't hurt him, and still... God. He was starting to sound like The Great Poof. Spike shook his head. "How about you, love? Holdin' up alright?"

"Yeah. I've really liked working at the gallery. If... If Joyce wants to, I'd like to work there, after college. I figure Anya works with Giles at The Magic Box, and that seems to work out alright enough."

"When there's not troll dimensions bein' poked, sure," Spike grumbled, remembering a night playing pool with Harris at The Bronze.

"What?"

"Nothin'." Spike's jaw slacked. "Bollocks!"

"What?!" Tara jumped, dropping her incense stick to the floor of the Summers home. She didn't even notice, her eyes trained on Spike. "What's wrong?"

"The bleeding troll hammer." Spike closed his eyes, remembering Anya's words from the last time they faced Glory. "Weapon of a god is good in a fight against a god."

"So... How do we get a troll hammer, exactly?" Tara crouched down to pick up her stick. "I'm thinking one of those isn't on Xander's construction site."

"Last time around, Red and Xander's bird summoned one by accident."

"A troll hammer?"

"A troll."

"So it was a spell?" The sweet witch chewed on her thumbnail.

"Think so." He was a bit preoccupied that day, mucking about with Harris' insecurities. Those who said fun couldn't be had with a chip just weren't creative. Spike cleared his throat. Right. Good now. He was a bad man back then. Soulless, and all that.

"Then we can get it again. It'll just take some time and a little luck to find the right thing."

"Lovely." Spike's lips twitched into a smile. He rose from the steps. "Time is it?"

Tara glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Almost one. Why?"

"Gotta go meet Dawn at The Magic Box."

"Now? But it's so..." Tara cringed. "Uh, sunny?"

"Right. Tunnels and a blanket should do me. Don't want to neglect her trainin'. Keep her fighting ready."

No one was gonna touch his girls, Spike decided as he watched Tara's even and unassuming gaze on him. No one was gonna touch a single one of his girls.

XXXXX

Buffy walked into Giles' apartment, closing the door behind her. None of the lights were turned on. The further in she walked, the more the echoing of her boots against the floor wigged her out. "Uh, hello? Giles? Oh Watcher my Watcher?" She dumped her backpack onto Giles' desk, which had loads of books on it, all of them open. Buffy glanced them over: gods of Roman myth, dimensions of heaven and hell, demonic portals. Giles was really pulling out all the stops on this one. Buffy laid her hand on one of the old dusty pages, thanks for Giles warming the center of her chest. She was lucky to have him, to have all of them.

"Yes, well, if you do hear anything..."

Giles emerged from his kitchen, the phone pressed to his ear. He nodded at Buffy, then put up one finger to let her know he'd be done with the call in a minute. Buffy took a seat on the armchair, the one she and Spike had shared during Willow's "will be done" spell. There was something nostalgic about that chair. Giles hung up and joined Buffy in the living room, sitting at his desk.

"How are you, Buffy?"

"Majorly tired. Making a mocha run with Wills later, though. How're you?"

"Out of Weetabix," Giles said with a grin.

"Don't look at me," Buffy said. "I keep my vampire stocked up on beef blood and Buffalo wings." When they were silent for a whole twelve seconds, Buffy's eyes wandered to the phone in the kitchen.

"Ah, yes, well, I've contacted some of my connections from..." Giles' lips tightened. "From my Ripper days. If they discover anything, they'll let me know at once."

"And do you have anything beyond zilch right now?"

"I'm afraid not. There are theories, but many of them vague. It's not much to go on, I'm afraid."

Buffy frowned, twirling around one of the simple gold rings on her right hand. "And the good news keeps on comin'."

"We have Spike now, Buffy. His foresight will be valuable, along with the skills the rest of us possess. No slayer has ever had as much support as you do at this very moment, even without the Watcher's Council at your side. If I have to go find this Glory with a flaming bat myself, I will do it."

Buffy immediately recalled having to stop Giles from getting killed by Angel—Angelus— after Jenny's death. Sometimes, she forgot how much Giles had been through, even just since arriving in Sunnydale. And Giles, as per usual, was right. They had a whole roster of potential ass-kickers, which now included double the slayers, double the fun.

"And slayers, they..." Buffy shook her head. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"What is it, Buffy?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "Giles, I feel like I get lost in the slaying sometimes." What she wanted to add was, with Faith back in town, she was reminded of the time when the two slayers were closest, Faith's lessons of want, take, have, how Faith didn't care about the guy she killed, how Faith was the reminder of how wrong things could go.

"I love my friends," Buffy said. "And Dawn and my mom and I guess college is okay enough and I like going for coffee and... and buying shoes and..." Another deep breath. She leaned forward. "It feels like, the better I get at slaying, the less I feel like a part of anything else, and it..." There was no way to describe it for anyone else to understand, except maybe Faith, but she had her own issues to work out without Buffy adding to the mess.

"Buffy, I... Slayers are strong, resilient, they can withstand so much in their pursuit of the greater good."

"I still want to be me. I don't want the slaying to be all I am. Maybe it's why Mom is so much closer with Dawn than she's ever been with me." Maybe it was the reason that something that should be so screwed up—getting bitten by a vamp—made her feel good in a really wrong way, as Angel had shown her, and Dracula and Spike had reignited really recently. It shouldn't make her feel good. And yet, the Slayer part of her... It was this huge piece of her life, and there was so little about that piece of herself that she really understood.

"Or like last year," she continued out loud. "When I fought with Wills and Xand. Sometimes I feel like they know me better than pretty much anyone, and then other times it feels like they're so distant from me, like we don't spend time together at all anymore, like they can't really understand what it's like to be a Slayer. And I don't want that. I don't want to feel that way, like I should be all about the slayage." Buffy stuck her fingers in her hair, pressing against the roots. "God, I'm so selfish."

"Listen to me. It is not selfish to want to feel for others. Your compassion is one of the very reasons you find the success that you do as a slayer, and as a young woman." Giles poked at one of the books on his desk. "Now, there's something we can do. A vision quest, in a desert not far from here. It might help you connect with your slayer half, to better understand your power."

"And leave Dawn vulnerable?"

"I'd hardly call the protection of two witches, William the Bloody, an ex-Vengeance Demon, and someone with pseudo military knowledge entirely unprotected. Unless..."

"What?" Buffy stood, pacing the floor. Giles had "But" face written all over him. Well, technically, "unless" face. Same diff.

"Unless you think it would help simply to discuss this with another slayer?"

Buffy shook her head. "Been there, thought that. Faith deals by way of overkill and getting with random guys. Not exactly healthy coping going on there." She stood in place, one hand on her hip. "I think. To be fair, I was taught Psych by a secret government nutcase."

"Then perhaps Faith would benefit from this trip as well?"

Buffy shrugged. "I'll ask her. No guarantees when it comes to Faith."

XXXXX

Giles had set the whole slayer vision quest thing for the next weekend. Buffy decided, the night before, that she needed some normal girl time before she worried about her cosmic responsibility crap. So she and Spike decided to sneak away to The Bronze while Faith watched the house and the others researched at The Magic Box. Buffy had claimed she was taking Spike on patrols, which was half true, anyway. Luckily she wore halter tops and skirts to fight the forces of darkness on the daily, so no one even questioned her outfit.

Spike sat across from her as Buffy sipped on her pink lemonade. Spike's eyes were on the band onstage, some group of guys with heavy guitar stuff going on. He didn't even notice that Buffy was watching him the whole time, studying him. She had this terrible sinking feeling that everything that was actually managing to somehow go alright in her life right now would go to hell just like the rest. She wanted to appreciate the moments like this, no matter what happened. Just as Buffy was beginning to wonder when she'd decided that she was going to let everything fall apart on her, Spike finally turned her way.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"You're gawkin' at me, Summers. 'fraid I'm gonna run off with one of the blokes in the band?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. She yanked her straw from the glass and dumped it on the table. Then, Buffy chugged the rest of her pink lemonade like it was beer, Spike raising an eyebrow at her.

"C'mon!" Buffy said. She hopped off her barstool, grabbing Spike's hand. He laughed, letting the Slayer drag him onto the dance floor.

Buffy stopped short. Spike knocked into her, grumbling something in British speak, but he stopped when Buffy started to sway her hips with her back against his front. Spike's hands slid down her sides, finally settling on the black lace of her skirt. Buffy smiled and closed her eyes, losing herself to the rhythm of the music. She flashed back, for all of ten seconds, to another night she'd danced here. She could sense a vampire nearby, which was pretty common at The Bronze, and then she'd heard that guy talk about someone getting bitten. It was the first time she'd heard Spike, and then he watched her take down the minion in the alley.

Buffy laughed, twirling around. Spike's dark blue eyes skimmed over her whole body as the two of them continued to move, his hands on her hips, hers curled around his shoulders. It was weird how far they'd come in three years. Granted, it'd been more for Spike but... If someone had told her the night of the Parent-Teacher fiasco that she'd be dancing with Spike at The Bronze, Buffy would've labeled them a total whackjob. Buffy combed her fingers through his slicked-back hair, remembering the way it'd be loose curls in the morning, how peaceful he looked while he slept. It was nice, not only having the big life-or-death type of stuff, but these small things, too. Normal, almost. As normal as Slayer/vampire relationships ever got.

"Spike?"

"Yes, precious?" He swept some hair away from her face. His touch was always so gentle when they were quiet like this. They could do both: fierce fighters, sweet lovers. Hell, sometimes the lines blurred and things got interesting.

"Spike, I love you. You know that, right?"

Even though she was struggling with the whole Dawn/Mom jealousy thing, the whole wishing she could be a normal daughter and live up to what her mother wanted for her, even with the nagging feeling that being a Slayer meant losing warm and fuzzy feelings and the fear that she'd lose one final battle because she'd get tired of life handing her lemons and would give up like Spike had told her about, Spike brought something human out in her.

Talk about ironies of ironies, huh?

"And I love you, Buffy." Spike tilted his head at her. The song the band was playing had gotten less upbeat, and the two of them were still swaying together even if they were way slower. "Waited several lifetimes over for you, dinn't I?'

Buffy pulled his head down to hers, kissing him, their tongues pushing against each other as she really didn't give a damn about who was watching. When she needed to take a breath, Buffy pressed herself up against his chest, resting her cheek on his soft black t-shirt. His coat surrounded the both of them, warm and safe, the smell of the leather and cigarettes soothing. He stroked her hair as they danced like this, losing track of time. It was the middle of the next song before Buffy realized it'd gone way up-tempo again. She took a step back from Spike, staring up into his eyes. They stood in place.

"I need you to protect them. I'm counting on you, Spike. I need you to promise me... I need you to promise we'll protect them."

Spike took her hands in his, squeezing her fingers. Everyone else danced around them, their movements as quick as the beat of the music. Buffy felt, in that moment, like she could hear each and every one of their heartbeats, though it easily could've been her heart thumping away. It felt like she and Spike were separate from them all, in their own little bubble.

"'Til the end of the world." Spike's lower lip twitched and he hung his head, looking to his boots. When his eyes found Buffy's again, something in his expression, in the way he was fighting back showing something to her, told Buffy she'd hit one of those future-type nerves again. "Even if that happens to be tonight."

Buffy kissed Spike on the cheek. "Well, the world can't end tonight."

Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow. (Buffy made a note to ask how that happened some time.) "It, uh, it can't?"

"Uh-uh." Buffy pointed down to her boots. "I paid a fortune for these! I want to wear them more than once."

Spike giggled.

"Now come on," Buffy said, dragging him toward the bar. "I'm getting you some spicy Buffalo wings. My treat."

"Bloody right, your treat," Spike muttered. "You still owe me fifty quid for..."

"I swear to god, Spike, if you bring up the slime demon and your coat one more time, I will kick your ass all the way back to Revello Drive."

"Demon-run dry-cleanin' ain't cheap, pet."

"Oh, what, and getting M'Fashnik guts on my designer clothes purchased at affordable prices is somehow a dream for me?"